


Pater Noster

by asuralucier



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: But it's treated seriously, Dubious Consent Because Wednesday, Incest sort of I mean Odin had a million kids, Including self-harm and hanging, M/M, Nebulous Canon Timeline, Odin's Mighty Spear, References to Norse Mythology, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Sacrifice and Worship, Shadow Doesn't Know, Shadow's Condom Buying Adventures, Snark and Banter, Spot the Bird Joke, Viagra, Wednesday What Are You Doing, Wednesday You Magnificent Bastard, With Apologies to Jesus Christ, YMMV whether this is Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-14 12:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: “A human body is a tremendous thing,” Wednesday said. “With a little help, of course. Except I'd help myself and I don’t need Viagra.”





	Pater Noster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yujacheong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujacheong/gifts).

> Many thanks to flowerdeluce and ictus, as ever!

Every day, Shadow’s job description as Mr. Wednesday’s muscle got a little weirder.

This was not exactly news or anything; the life of a hired muscle meant that he had to deal with weird and roll with the punches when they came and Shadow wasn’t not used to that. He never really questioned it when they had to move hotels, avoid this or that club, or if some guy came up to them on the sidewalk to take a pop at Wednesday and Shadow had to intervene before he could think. Most of the time, he did all right. 

Except when he didn’t. 

“Shadow Moon?” An officer in uniform rapped loudly on the bars of the jail cell and the loud clanging jerked Shadow from an uneasy sleep. As consciousness overtook his body, he was conscious too, that he was still sporting a split lip and that his right arm felt numb. He couldn’t tell whether it was broken.

Shadow said, “Yeah.” 

“You’re being released.” The officer said, “Your father’s explained everything to the sarge. We’re sorry for the confusion.” 

“Right.” 

“How’s your arm?” The officer glanced at it pointedly while undoing Shadow’s cuffs. 

“I’ll live,” said Shadow, mostly because he didn’t want to give the guy any satisfaction though it did hurt. He followed the officer down a long hallway lit with too-bright fluorescent lights on their last legs. He blinked against the obtrusive flicker and the officer seemed to notice.

The officer said, by the way of apology, “Sorry, our funding’s balls.” 

Shadow sympathized, “No problem.” 

In reception, the lights seemed to be in working order, and Shadow spotted Wednesday leaning against the front desk on his elbows, deep in conversation with a young cadet who was seemingly eating up Wednesday’s every word. From this angle, Shadow thought he could see why they all found the man compelling - if that was indeed all he was. Wednesday insisted that he was a lot of things, but Wednesday also said he was a lot of things and still couldn’t fend himself off from a couple of regular goons. Something just didn’t add up. 

“Ah, Shadow!” Wednesday said, incorporating him into existence again with a grand wave of his arm.

“Hi, Dad,” said Shadow. 

“You look terrible, son,” Wednesday opined, and Shadow wanted to punch him in the face. He let himself entertain the fantasy as long as he could manage and let Wednesday lope him into a hug. The older man smelled of something, but Shadow couldn’t place the smell. 

“I feel terrible,” said Shadow in the privacy of their stolen car. It was a four-door that smelled permanently of cat piss. “Thanks for asking.” 

Wednesday settled himself into the passenger’s seat and clicked his seatbelt into place. “Is it your arm?” 

“Thank so.” 

“Let me see,” Wednesday extended a hand over the driver’s console and Shadow fought to urge to flinch away from him. “I won’t hurt you.” 

“I was also counting on you not to land me in jail.” Shadow said, “I mean, it’s kind of a big deal to me.” 

“So it is,” Wednesday assented, but aside from that, he didn’t sound particularly interested or concerned. “Did you run into any old friends?” 

“Like who?” Shadow looked straight at the steering wheel. The key was in the ignition, but he didn’t move to start the car. “I have a _record_. If they found out that I -” 

“But they didn’t,” Wednesday cut him off. “Otherwise they probably would have prolonged your stay. Arm, please.” 

Shadow didn’t want to, but he found himself extending his injured arm towards Wednesday the best he could, wincing as he did so. 

“Close your eyes. Think of somewhere you’d want to be. A lovely, wonderful place. Let yourself sink into it.” 

Shadow did, picturing a warm bath drawn in a clean, glistening tub. He imagined himself taking off his clothes and lowering himself in to warm water filled with sweet-smelling bubbles. He gave a sigh of relief and let himself relax. It’d felt like a damn long time, since he had. Even in the rare moments when Wednesday left him to his own devices, Shadow still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. There was always a part of him that remained on edge. 

But he was alone now. 

He was so alone, that he barely registered the hand on his belly, a hand that snaked down to grasp Shadow gently between his legs, coaxing his dick to life. The touch was gentle, but not without purpose and soon, Shadow was hard, naked and comfortable in the bath, making little wanting noises as if he was still all alone. 

Shadow groaned out, “_Fuck_.” And a tip of a finger, damp and slick from something that probably wasn’t the bathwater, pressed against his mouth. 

“Shh, almost.” 

Shadow opened his eyes and he found that he was back in the car, the heady feel of somebody jerking him off sticky at the back of his brain and he said, “Jesus _Christ_.” 

“Was thinking more along the lines of ‘Fucking God yes,’” said Wednesday mildly. “But I’ll take it. Try your arm. And lick your lips.” The man demonstrated. 

“You,” Shadow whirled on him. “What the fuck was that?” 

“A little charm that I know. Pretty nifty, right?” Wednesday touched his arm and Shadow was all set to wince. But he felt nothing. He rolled his shoulder and flexed his arm, holding his elbow at a bent that was previously painful. 

Still nothing. 

Shadow touched his mouth, his lip seemed to have healed, too. 

“What the fuck,” Shadow said again. He knocked his head against the soft padding of the driver’s seat. He almost closed his eyes, but decided against it. 

“If that’s all you think a fuck is, you need to get out more,” Wednesday said. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.” 

Things got really weird after that, but Shadow tried to look on the bright side. At least he didn’t end up in jail again and the worst of his injuries after that little stint was a black eye. A black eye he explicitly forbade Wednesday not to touch, even though the man kept offering. 

“You hurt my feelings,” said Wednesday, finally. 

To be fair, it was a pretty bad black eye. Shadow removed the cold can of pop he’d been pressing against said black eye and examined himself in the bathroom mirror. He’d left the door open and Wednesday was sitting on Shadow’s hotel bed, completely still. 

“Do you have feelings?” 

“I have to adhere to the limits that this vessel provides.” Wednesday’s head turned an inch. “Which is to say yes, I do. I feel terrible that you’re hurt. Even if I need it for sacrificial reasons.”

Shadow said, “For what reasons?” 

“Health reasons.” 

Shadow turned, and he found Wednesday leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. “That is not what you said.” 

Wednesday waved that aside. “It’s the same thing. I keep saying there's an easier way, you know.” 

Shadow pressed the can against his swollen eye again, willing the coldness to shock him back to full consciousness. The smooth surface was lukewarm now and Shadow put down the can at the edge of sink. “It’s - has the Viagra done your head in or something?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Wednesday said. 

“You’re,” Shadow studied him. Sometimes, he was keenly aware of how old and frail Wednesday looked. There were deep-set lines on his face and his voice carried years and years of cigarette ash probably lining his lungs. Yet Shadow had never seen the man indulge in that way. The fact that the guy was going around town like a regular rogue inciting youthful blockheads to come at him with their fists held high was nothing short of _laughable_.

Except it was happening. _Actually_ still happening, and if Shadow wasn’t bearing the brunt of Wednesday’s various escapades he would have had a chuckle too. Probably. 

“You’re what, sixty? Sixty-five? Seventy? There’s no way that you could.” He stopped. Shadow wasn’t shy, but suddenly he was embarrassed. 

“A human body is a tremendous thing,” Wednesday said. “With a little help, of course. Except I'd help myself and I don’t need Viagra.” 

“What,” said Shadow and decided that he really needed a drink. He tried to remember if there was anything alcoholic in the minibar provided and as he went to check, he heard Wednesday’s soft laughter behind him. 

“If you want drink, I’ve got better.” 

Shadow had the weirdest flashback to somebody who looked like Wednesday jerking him off in a big shiny tub. He shook himself. 

“Stop that.” 

“At least I don’t ask you to hang yourself; nothing beats that, but that’s not vogue now. But between a violent sacrifice and one beget from carnal flesh, we both know which one you seem to prefer.” Wednesday said fairly and knelt next to him in front of the minibar. He put a hand against Shadow’s cheek and Shadow had to fight the urge to close his eyes. “Will you please let me look at your eye?” 

“You can look,” said Shadow. “But I will punch you if you touch me.” Wednesday was right, so he didn't argue. He did prefer one over the other.

“I’m touching you now,” Wednesday said and leaned in two inches. 

It was Wednesday’s habit to send Shadow on errands every so often, though it was not properly a part of his job description. Sometimes he didn’t mind it.

Other times, maybe he did. 

This time, the list was short and straightforward. It had been provided to Shadow on hotel stationery, the stock heavy and smooth under his fingers. Wednesday had listed the items needed in the order of preference (not to be confused with the order of importance, which was something else). 

Near the top of the list, Wednesday had written, in a stately hand, bold and slightly slanted to the left: **Condoms - BIG ONES**

It occurred to Shadow, as he went to the aisle dedicated to men’s health, that he didn’t have to follow Wednesday’s orders to a tee; after all, the man appreciated a good con, a neat trick. The supermarket could easily be out of niche-sized condoms and that’d be that. Was it niche? He didn’t know. It’d been some time since Shadow had had the pleasure, and even then. 

But no. No such luck. Hurriedly, Shadow shoved a packet of Magnum XL into his basket, obscuring it (cleverly, he thought) between bottles of shampoo and moisturizer. Maybe Wednesday would appreciate the “gold standard,” or if he didn’t, he was at least basking in Shadow’s discomfort. Shadow didn’t know why he thought he knew this. 

“My boyfriend and I brought those once,” said a voice behind him and Shadow turned. At first he looked around for Wednesday, even if the person who’d spoken was clearly a woman. 

“And?” 

“And nothing,” a woman stood strangely at odds with the her valley lilt and her snapping gum; it was as if she was someone else, or if someone else was tugging at her with invisible strings. She snapped her gum at Shadow and the crackle was disconcerting, to say the least. “Let’s say his mighty spear was more like a fucking shovel. You know, one of those ones with a stubby handle?”

A new club had opened on the main strip and the list was exclusive. It was so exclusive that Wednesday insisted Shadow buy a new suit. But not a stuffy one. Shadow hadn’t understood what that meant the first time, but now he did. There was something to be said about the fact that clothes made a man. Shadow could feel people staring at him the way they usually didn’t. He chalked that down to Wednesday not wanting to share. 

They got in without any trouble, and Shadow, just for the hell of it, started running a betting pool with himself about how long it would take until Wednesday got them thrown out. 

But something was already different. Wednesday had his favorite, failsafe angles, which was not surprising; a huckster felt safe and protected by cons he’d run a thousand times. Even when the cons went horrifically wrong, that was familiar too. Shadow knew practically all of them by now and didn’t need to be told to make himself scarce. Wednesday ordered them both Chambord and a champagne and made sure that the bartender or whoever brought them their drinks knew that they would be seated in the VIP section.

“VIP section?” 

Wednesday smiled at him, sweet and something else that wasn’t that. “Thought I’d splash out.” 

Shadow had worked at a club once. Sometimes he liked to sit in the VIP section and imagine a better life for himself. Very possibly, this was not that life, but he wasn’t going to say no to champagne and whatever Chambord was. 

“Raspberry,” Wednesday said helpfully. 

“Don’t _do_ that,” said Shadow. 

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a habit,” Wednesday demurred, and actually looked a bit sheepish. Then he fixed Shadow with another look, this time a curious one. “Do you like raspberry? We could always get something else. You choose.” 

“You don’t know whether I like raspberry?” Shadow found that funny and almost laughed. 

“I can’t know something that you don’t know yourself.” 

“Jesus would,” Shadow couldn’t help himself. “Supposedly, he knew that Judas was going to betray him before Judas knew it himself.” But it was true that he didn’t know how he felt about raspberry. He wasn’t about to tell Wednesday that, but that Wednesday knew already. 

“I still say that he got lucky.” Wednesday said. Something flashed dangerously in his eyes but then it seemed to fade away again, as the man decided that this was not going to be that sort of day. “Fifty-fifty chance. That’s practically shooting fish in a barrel.” 

“Sure,” Shadow shrugged. “Raspberry’s fine. I don’t know how I feel about it but I’ll try anything once.” 

“I’m glad you said that.” 

They were shown to their booth in the VIP section and Shadow slid in first; Wednesday slid in right beside him, not leaving any space. If their hostess thought this was odd, she didn’t say anything. The booth afforded them plenty of privacy and an expansive view of the entire club. It was bustling; the music loud with an insistent pumping bass and their hostess had a stain on the back of her dress. It looked a bit like ketchup. Shadow looked, and could feel Wednesday looking too. 

“Problem?” Wednesday asked.

“Just wondering if I should disappear, soon.” Shadow looked around. Wednesday had him pinned against the corner, and Shadow knew that for all practical purposes, he could easily shove the man out of the way. He was bigger, and he could. 

But he also knew he wouldn’t. Shadow suspected that Wednesday knew that too. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know, for you to,” Shadow suddenly didn’t know what to say. Finally, he settled for: “Take care of your health problems.” 

“You sound jealous.” Wednesday said. 

“I’m not, promise.” Shadow was about to say something else too, but somebody came by with their Chambord and champagne and Shadow was glad for a bit of time. The drink was fizzy and sweet. “I’m just terrified that you’ll, I don’t know. Make me watch or something.” 

“Is that something you’re into?” Wednesday said, brightly, hopefully. 

“You tell me.” 

“I’d rather it be the other way around.” Wednesday took a sip of his own drink. “You’ve stated a boundary, perhaps I should try to stick to it. At least on your night off.” 

Wednesday’s hand was on Shadow’s knee. Shadow looked at the hand, and then at Wednesday, straight in the eyes. “Am I getting a night off?” 

“I splashed for a VIP booth and everything. That, and you said you’d try anything once.” 

It suddenly seemed to Shadow that the oxygen in the air, meant to keep him alive, was made out of water. He gulped a swallow of air and drank more booze and maybe felt a little better. “Well, then no. I had enough of that in prison.” 

Wednesday’s hand left his knee and Shadow suddenly felt unmoored from life. He felt as though he didn’t exist, and put his hand on Wednesday’s elbow. 

This time, the man didn’t look at him. He stared straight ahead into the abyss. “I’m sorry you went to prison, Shadow.” 

“I’m not,” Shadow said. “Well. No, that’s kind of a lie. I do in the sense that I do. The normal sense. But other than that, I guess you could say I’ve made my peace with it now. So I don’t.” 

“Nothing about you is ordinary, darling,” said Wednesday and kissed him. The feeling was unlike anything that Shadow had ever felt before. The feeling was hazy, turning his bones liquid and putting him back together again with more knowledge where there wasn’t any before. 

“So there was this girl at the supermarket. She told me about her boyfriend’s garden shovel. I think she was trying to make a dick joke.” Was apparently the first thing that Shadow decided to say after they came up for air. It’d been on his mind, who knew? (Wednesday probably did.) 

“I used to own ravens,” said Wednesday, splaying his fingers under Shadow’s jaw. “Now I have to make do with any old bird. They can’t even get the message right.” He laughed. The sound was unkind and prickled Shadow’s skin.

Shadow blinked, “I’m missing something, aren’t I?” 

“You are,” said Wednesday, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he took his time, his fingers greedily dragging every over every inch of Shadow’s skin. “But it doesn’t matter.” 

“Suck,” Wednesday said, pressing two fingers against Shadow’s mouth and Shadow did. He suddenly felt hungry. A hunger, a black desire to please that had been long in slumber deep near his gut, awoke and wanted. The hunger surpassed every bit of his rational mind and he just wanted. And that was all. He sucked Wednesday’s fingers down to his knuckles without knowing exactly how he’d done it, or how, after the man had taken his fingers out of Shadow’s mouth, the spit became sticky and viscous. 

“Another trick,” Wednesday mouthed warmly against his collarbone. “Don’t think. Just feel. Want.” He reached into Shadow’s nice pleated pants, brushed right by his burgeoning hard-on just so before reaching around to press Shadow right in his -

“Fuck, Wednesday, I.” 

The magic was fading. Even if Shadow closed his eyes and tried to take himself back to where he had been, suffused with warm, lovely knowledge, all he knew now was that he was exposed and that the music was loud. Too loud. 

“Shadow. Shadow,” Wednesday was calling his name. “Look at me. There’s only me in the world.” 

Shadow obeyed, and Wednesday looked as vibrant and full of life as he’d ever been. He wasn’t just surviving in this rotting city or this glitzy nightclub. He was _alive_. He was all, and the only thing that Shadow could see for miles. 

Wednesday’s finger, slick and foreign, entered Shadow and though he knew he should protest against its presence, he groaned thickly and wanted. Wednesday made a noise of approval and Shadow arched against him. 

“More? Shadow, you have to tell me what you want.” 

Shadow blinked blearily. His vision slowly cleared and he saw Wednesday leaning over him. He touched the man and kissed him, wanting him. He felt it too, the weight of Wednesday near his groin, pressing into him and Shadow’s body awoke with a new hunger.

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, God fuck please,” said Shadow, and at first he thought he’d said it to be funny, but then he wasn’t so sure. And then he didn’t care, not really. 

Wednesday filled him in one smooth motion, and Shadow felt him, thick and present and _big_, as if the man didn’t want him to think of anything else. Wednesday’s hands were firm on Shadow’s hips and the man was muttering something hot and familiar and far away on his skin. It made Shadow feel as if he were in a million places all at once. 

“_Fuck_,” Shadow drew out the word. The syllable rang in his ears, and he wondered if anyone had heard him. Along with the pulsing bassline, there was the rhythm of Wednesday’s blood, human and godlike, that Shadow could feel thrusting deep inside of him. He rocked back haphazardly against Wednesday and the man made a noise that stayed in Shadow’s ears like thunder. 

Later, Shadow examined his ruined new suit and waited for somebody to come to ask them to leave. He had his hand wrapped loosely around himself, feeling the weak tremors of his orgasm still rolling their way through his body. 

“We had loud semi-public sex.” Shadow said. The sentence felt wrong somehow, but he was still coming back to himself. 

“We did,” Wednesday agreed. He was sweating slightly and Shadow put a hand against his chest to hear his human heartbeat. 

“So somebody should come and kick us out.” Shadow looked around again. 

“Would you rather that happened, or would you rather I order us some more champagne?” The man peered at him. “How are we feeling about raspberry?” 

Shadow told the truth. “I still don’t know.” 

“Just champagne then,” Wednesday agreed. He adjusted himself with some effort and got to his feet. “Like I said, today’s your night off. It would have been rude of me to invite an audience without your knowledge.” 

“Maybe I could work up to it,” Shadow said, his voice still a bit cracked. He felt as if his body wasn’t entirely his, that he was missing something but oddly satisfied at the same time. He’d come all over his stomach and shivered when Wednesday pressed his hand against his damp skin. “You just got to give me time.” 

“Would you do that for me?” Wednesday smiled, ravenous like an otherworldly beast, and yet Shadow could think of nowhere else he wanted to be. “My dear boy, I might just hold you to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- Odin has [sacrificed himself by hanging](http://www.ancientpages.com/2018/05/07/god-of-the-gallows-and-how-odin-hanged-himself-from-yggdrasil-to-know-secrets-of-runes/). This is also briefly alluded to by Vulcan in the series. That crazy motherfucker. 
> 
> -Odin owns [ravens](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huginn_and_Muninn). In the book he still has them but like I thought the bird joke was funny. 
> 
> -Title from the Latin for the "Lord's Prayer."


End file.
